The Wanderer's Wandering Daughter
by Red Wasabi
Summary: Born amoungst humans and rasied against their standards How can a sparkling ever hope to re-connect with her own kind? A series of short loosely connected vignettes dealing with the the last Autobot sparkling ever born form the Allspark.
1. Chapter 1

Reginald Simmons, or Reggie as only his mother called him; was bored

**Title:** The Wanderer's Wandering Daughter

**Author:** Red Wasabi

**Disclaimer:** Kitta belongs to meh, but everyone else belongs to…you know…those owning type people…

**Notes:** This bunny was developed while washing dishes at work. It is the first bit in a series of loosely connected vignettes that I am developing centered around the idea that too many fics have TF's raising humans, and hardly any(well none that I've found) have humans raising a TF.

**Rated:**G

**Chapter 1: Of Ducklings and Ducks**

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Reginald Simmons or Reggie as only his mother called him; was bored. Not just your run of the mill will watch infomercials kind of bored but the deep seeded and desperate kind of bored. The kind of bored that no agent left on night duty at sector seven should ever feel because it was the kind of feeling that made a person want to do something—anything. And for Simmons that usually spelled trouble.

"Come on you hunk of space rock, do something already!" Simmons whispered under his breath as he fiddled with the stasis controls which he was definitely _not_ supposed to even be breathing on let alone adjusting. Spitefully he kicked a box of spare parts that some workers had left nearby while they were repairing the cube's support beams.

Simmons winced and looked around quickly as they hit the side of the alien cube and banged loudly. He really didn't need anyone here to see what he was doing. He wasn't even supposed to know that this thing existed, let alone be alone with it in the middle of the night when he was supposed to be watching the other side of the complex. He just couldn't let it be though, not when he has been so close to his Father's life long obsession for the first time.

Simmons sighed tiredly; he didn't want to get in trouble with the old man. He knew that while this job had been passed down from generation to generation of the Simmons' men his Father wouldn't hesitate to quietly oust him if he made a mistake—especially one involving such a highly classified and mysterious piece of alien paraphernalia.

This rock, this gigantic hunk of alien—_whatever it was_—was the key to everything, he could feel it. If he could just understand what it was then maybe—Slowly Simmons reached out stretching his limber frame to its limits as he brushed his fingers against the carved foreign rock. The carvings were warm against his fingertips, and he could almost feel a kind of powerful energy pulsing gently through his body as he traced a finger along the edges of a particularly curvy hieroglyph.

"Please," Simmons's murmured almost reverently as his fingers memorized the carvings. "Give me something—_anything_." Without warning a painful jolt of electricity jarred Simmons body; before he could even scream the brilliant flash of light had blinded him, and then there was nothing.

Consciousness came in layers as it often does when one has been forcibly separated form it in the first place. Simmons rolled over on his stomach with a low groan and proceeded to empty his still twisting stomach out all over the floor.

The regular hum of the cube and the stench of his bile seemed magnified by ten. "What the Hell just happened?" He painfully eased himself away from the mess he'd made, his body felt like it was on fire. What _had_ happened? How much time had passed? Simmons breath hitched as he realized he could have been out for hours, in a labored flash he was upright, trying to ignore the sickening dizziness in his head.

He had to get out of here and report to his station, there was no telling how much time had passed while he lay passed out on the floor. Quickly he made a start for the door, he had to hurry it could almost be time for the main shift agents to come in and—Simmons paused in his frantic rush towards the door.

Something wasn't right in the room, something was different. Simmons blinked his eyes trying to will away the bleariness that had settled in them; what had changed? Simmons squinted his eyes and stared hard at the area around the cube. Ok, sure there was now a big puddle of throw-up that hadn't been there before, but something else—some small and seemingly insignificant thing was gone…

His eye widened in realization, the box that he'd kicked—it was gone. Simmons darted a look over shoulder, had some night workman come in for the parts and seen him? And if they had, had they told anyone? Or had they respected the don't ask, don't tell policy that was strictly enforced?

A slight scratching noise coming from behind the cube's main ground supports drew Simmons attention. Instantly he whipped out his gun, and held it ready; who ever that was they would have a lot of explaining _and_ covering up to do when he got through with them!

Simmons stealthily stalked towards the rocky supports area; his gun aimed and ready to fire. Slowly he eased himself against the cold rock and slid around to the corner. In one quick movement he darted around the corner and aimed—only to find air.

With a frown Simmons lowered his weapon, he had been sure that there was a sound coming from behind this support column. He let out a loud sigh as his shoulders sagged down in frustration. Not only had he broken into a highly classified area of S7, but he had messed up their big alien rock to boot. _And_ to top it off the alien rock had messed with him right back--and now he was going crazy hearing things!

Out of the corner of his eye Simmons saw a flash of silver hurtling towards him. Before Simmons could turn around what seemed like a tiny metal vice clasped around his calves causing him to fall over in an undignified heap.

Stunned Simmons could only stare at the bright blue eyes of what he could only hope was a happy alien wrapped around his calf…_cooing? _Carefully Simmons eased his torso up, trying hard to not disturb the alien life form who was very obviously enthralled with his pants.

The movement seemed to attract the alien's attention and it quickly climbed over his knees to sit gazing up at him in his lap. _'Oh shit._' He was in for it now. There was no way he could cover this one up from the old man. Slowly the wheels in Simmons shocked mind began turning, wasn't there some kind of procedure for something like this? What had his grandpa told him…?

"I—uhh," Simmons voice froze again when the creature curled up against him and began to hum like a kind of freaky space cat. "I'm not authorized to talk to you, except to tell you that I'm not authorized to talk to you." He finally spit out in a rush.

Blue eyes flickered curiously up at him, and Simmons found himself disturbed by the innocence that radiated from the glowing eyes. They seemed almost—childlike. _'Maybe I said it too fast…'_ Simmons reasoned silently as he debated what to do.

Gingerly he picked the humming little alien up and set it on the ground next to him. "I am not authorized to speak to you," he said again, stressing a loud emphasis on each word as he spoke. "Except to tell you that I am not authorized to speak to you."

Slowly as to not startle the alien Simmons arose from his sitting position on the ground, "In fact little guy lets make a deal. I never found you and you're just going to stay here and look recent when the morning workers come in, ok?"

"Kitta?" the little mechanoid clicked at him.

Simmons nodded, "Yeah that's right, 'kitta' or whatever. Just stay here." He turned away and began to hurry towards the door once more, but was stopped when he heard the soft, but unmistakable sound of metal feet scrapping quietly against the rock floor following behind him.

Simmons glanced over his shoulder to see the little alien less then a foot behind him, and still staring up at him with those impossibly trusting blue eyes. Simmons stopped and turned around to face the alien, "No, you don't seem to understand. You have to stay here, I have to leave and pretend that I've never seen you." He tried to reason with it.

"Kitta?" the little alien intoned at him again, but this time lifting it's arms and making the universal gesture for 'up'. Simmons felt his resolve crumble as the silver mechanoid stood like any human child would, just begging to be held. With a sigh that was one of more hopelessness then annoyance Simmons bent over and picked the alien up.

He had just broken at least six protocols that he could think of right off hand; and when they found out about this in the morning he was sure that the Old Man would be able to think of more. So why did he suddenly feel like a mother duck?


	2. Chapter 2

"A is for apple, ah, ah, ah

**Title:** The Wanderer's Wandering Daughter

**Author**: Red Wasabi

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, but I can dream (and I do! ;)

**Notes:** Well, got out a little later then I had initially expected…also went tin a totally different direction too, but what the heck muse though art a fickle bitch.

**Rated:** G/K

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"A is for apple, ah, ah, ah. B is for baby, buh, buh—is that thing even paying attention to me?" Agent Springer asked grouchily. "We've been at this for hours and so far we've gotten three clicks, a beep, and a whole lot of blank stares out of this thing. Are they even sure that it _can _talk? I mean after all it _did_ get captured, isn't it at all possible that maybe we got the retarded alien?" Springer babbled on unaware of the dark mood that was growing in the agent sitting next to him.

Simmons rubbed the bridge of his nose slowly as he tried to block out Springer's incessant chatter. They had had this argument _every day_, for the last _five_ years. Ever since Springer had been taken off the MBE 1 case and assigned to Simmons' Kitta case he had done nothing but try to get Simmons to transfer him. Today it seemed he was going for the annoying, with a borderline of slightly offensive comments routine and Simmons was sick and tried of it.

"Ok, first of all," Simmons said interrupting Springer's running commentary, "what have I said about calling Kitta an 'it'? She is a member of a highly advanced mechanoid race that we know next to nothing about; she could be a princess or a dignitary for all we know, and you're sitting here insulting her intelligence!"

Springer leaned back in his hard institutional chair with a chuckle, "First of all Simmons, there's no conclusive proof that what you're calling a she is a she; we're just assuming that because of the structural difference in her and MBE 1's frame they are different genders. Who knows, maybe big ugly out there is the girl and this one is the male; it wouldn't be the first time that nature has made the male smaller and better looking then the female of the species." Springer smirked widely at Simmons, "and second of all, your 'dignitary' there is eating _her_ flashcards."

"What?!" Simmons turned around just in time to see 'C is for cat' disappear down his excitedly chattering alien's mouth. "Damn it. How many has she eaten already?"

Springer shrugged his shoulders, "I dunno, while we were talking she managed to get down V, P, C; but she could have gotten more when I wasn't looking."

Simmons let out a growl as he reached for a small canister in his suit pocket, "And you didn't stop her because, why?"

Springer shook his head at Simmons' agitation glad he could prickle the agent in any way. "I figured that something beneficial would finally come from one of these so called phonetic lessons—she would get some fiber." He replied scathingly.

Simmons glared over at the agent next to him, "She doesn't need fiber; she's an alien species. She not even supposed to eat stuff like that. She's supposed to eat this—" Simmons shook a blue, marble sized globe from his canister. "This recycled energy globe has all the nutrients she needs, thank you Mr. MBE 1." Kitta's eyes followed Simmons' hands as he rolled the globe around in the palm of his hand.

"You want it Kitta," Kitta's eyes brightened considerably at her name. "OK the say, A is for apple, ah, ah, ah--and damn it spit out whatever letter you are chewing right now!"

Springer held out an open hand, "Hey give that blue thing here; I've got an idea." Simmons raised a skeptical eyebrow but dropped the blue globe into Springer's waiting hands never the less.

"Yeah well, whatever it is it better be good, or she's going to go through the whole alphabet in record time." Simmons grumbled out.

"Maybe," with a small clack Springer set the globe on the table top in front of Kitta and began to roll it lazily between his two hands. "Maybe, she's just tired of the same old stuff that we've been tying to drill into her for what seems like a century. Maybe we should try something new, something, dare I say it—_unorthodox_."

Springer looked expectantly over at his partner, "Fine whatever you want—just don't do anything to hurt her."

Springer nodded agreeably as he leaned forward a mischievous smile on his face, "Of course nothing to hurt the '_princess_'."

"Kitta, look over here." Springer waved the blue globe inches from the alien's flickering eyes. "You want this Kitta?" Springer moved the globe up and down and winked at Simmons less then pleased face when her entire head began to bob in time with the treat.

A silver hand darted out to take the treat, and Springer ripped it back towards him. "Ah, ah, Kitta, you can't have this until you've said something for us. Now can you say Simmons, Kitta, Simmons," Springer drawled out the other agent's name. "Simmons, as in Simmons is a dirty bastard, can you say _that_ Kitta, _darling_."

"Agent Springer!" Springer turned towards his irate partner with a cocky smile.

"What?" he answered innocently as he popped the blue treat into his own mouth, smirking at Simmons face as it was contorted in both disgust and annoyance. "It's been hours since breakfast."

Simmons took a deep calming breath before replying, "You know you're right Agent Springer, it has been a long time. Why don't you just go and eat something—and not come back. I'll stay here and work with our assignment. Is that all right with you?"

Springer's back cracked loudly as he stretched next to the open door, "Yeah whatever Simmons, hey could you make sure to you know, record your session with Kitta? Cause you know I don't want to miss a single moment of the demise of the alphabet by alien teeth."

"Just shut the door and leave already." Simmons huffed out.

"Hey I'm already gone." Springer yelled as he slammed the door to the office.

"Not gone soon enough though." Simmons muttered under his breath as he gathered up the remaining flash cards. It just didn't make sense, he knew that Kitta wasn't stupid, anyone could see that—so why hadn't she picked up any language skills. They'd tried English, then German, and French, followed by a smattering of several other languages until finally they had arrived back at English; but nothing seemed to stick. She seemed to understand them, but she refused to actually communicate beyond her own made up language of clicks, beeps, and hums.

"Maybe you are tried of the same old methods, they don't seem to be working anyway…"Simmons cast a glance at the closed door. "So lets try something really different ok Kitta?" Simmons took another blue globe from the canister and held it in front of his wayward student. "Kitta, can you say Daddy?"


	3. Chapter 3

Points, those were something that Kitta had learned to like

**Title:** The Wanderer's Wandering Daughter

**Author:** Red Wasabi

**Disclaimer:** Not mine times ten!

**Notes:** It's been a while, I know.

**Rated:** PG

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Simmons let out a frustrated sigh as he glanced across the table at Kitta, he had a feeling that she hadn't been listening to a word he'd been saying. Her fingers were constantly moving in a repetitive twitch and her eyes never rested on the same thing twice. She was acting like hyper dog, or a little kid who'd gotten into the sugar bowl. Simmons sighed again as he glanced at his wristwatch, where was Springer, Kitta needed to download that last file before her next exercise.

Simmons lean forward snapping his fingers in Kitta's face, "So do you understand what I've told you about your mission so far?" Kitta's chrome face plates shifted into an expression that Simmons had come to understand was a happy one, as she responded with a series of low excited chirps.

Simmons half smiled as Kitta chattered on, he had been conducting through research on this speech development problemof hers and though he had been scouring books with such promising titles like, 'Childhood Speech, Language, and Listening Problems: What Every Parent Should Know', and 'Talking Together: A Parents Guide', he had yet to find a solution.

"So you're excited about your point total are you?" In the end he had realized that it didn't matter if she couldn't speak any real languages, he could understand most of her clicks and buzzes anyway. It was like a private language of their very own. Besides she didn't need to English to understand what was expected of her, and Sector Seven was willing to work around a strange requirement as long as Kitta continued to provide such excellent results.

"You know you've almost earned enough points to choose whatever you want from this catalog," Simmons head jerked towards the now open door. Springer stood causally leaning against the frame of the door holding open a glossy toy catalog. The twisted smirk on his face grew darker as Kitta ran up to him; with her hands out stretched chattering excitedly while pointing at the magazine.

"Don't tease her like that," Simmons warned as Springer held the catalog just out of Kitta's arm reach.

Springer snickered, "Why, think she might bite?" With a contemptuous laugh he threw the catalog across the room, and sneered when Kitta faithfully ran to retrieve it.

Simmons rolled his eyes at Springer's lack of protocol, "No, because she is government property and your behavior isn't professional."

Springer's lips curled in dislike as he stared at the small mechanoid who was rapidly turning the pages of the catalog. "Professional? Simmons, I hate to break it to you but we stopped being 'professional' with this thing since we started that point system thing you thought up." Springer jerked his head towards Kitta, "I mean yeah sure it works, but who is really in charge here? Us, or the robo-dog there?"

Simmons glanced sharply at Springer, "What have I told you about that, either you call her by her name or you call her MBE2."

Springer shrugged his shoulders as he sat down in the chair across form Simmons, "Yeah, I know what you're saying but just look at us, 'do your exercises, get a point'. We might as well be saying, 'roll over and get a slice of hotdog.' "

A loud series of chirps interrupted the two agents from their discussion and Kitta came bounding in between them waving the magazine excitedly. Instantly Springer knocked Simmons outstretched hand away and took up the catalog.

"A chemistry set? You want to spend your points on _that_?" Springer's incredulous voice asked as he looked from the catalog to the jittery alien in front of him.

"Absolutely no—" Simmons answer was cut short by Springer ripping the page from the catalog and putting it carefully away in a file.

"Well Kitta," Springer said with a dark smile, "you can have that chemistry set—" Kitta's excited chirps echoed loudly in the small room. "But," Kitta instantly became still at the word 'but', "first you have to go and '_fetch_' something for us."

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_Points_, those were something that Kitta had learned to like. They meant good things, like treats and free time, and praise. Stealthily Kitta edged around the room towards the glowing consul, points meant everything and this mission was certainly going to be worth a lot of them. Kitta halted a few feet away from her prize, something was off; the enemy never let things be this simple.

Suspicious she flicked on her heat sensing vision, instantly a myriad tangle of previously unseen beams appeared before her. Kitta giggled quietly; if the enemy had thought that _those_ would stop her they were dead wrong. She was smaller, faster, and more lithe then any other operative in sector seven; it was if she had been made to wiggle under, between, and through places other agents couldn't.

Kitta quickly maneuvered her way through the maze of lasers, until she reached her goal: the main consul. Springer had told her that this consul was the most important information hub in the enemies' entire facility; and her mission was to download, and destroy it.

With an almost cheerful air Kitta inserted her fingers into the port and began to hack away at the security codes. This was probably her favorite part; she loved the feeling of the rushing information flooding her data ports. It tingled, and made her systems feel like they were bursting with energy; it made her feel powerful.

The tingle slowed and Kitta knew it was time for her to release the special virus that she had stored in her quarantine banks. She had downloaded, and now it was time for her to destroy. By the time the virus was detectable not only would all their information be lost, but she would be long gone.

Kitta scrambled nimbly up an airshaft towards the roof to wait for her signal. Her small metallic body trembled slightly with the effort but she didn't slow down. This was a timed mission, and she was already a little too behind for her own comfort. All she wanted was to get to the top of the shaft and wait until her signal sounded. Then she could go and they would tally up her points—_and_ her treats.

Kitta let out a nearly inaudible sigh as she reached the plateau at the top of the shaft. She ignored the slight quivering in her thin outer frame plates. She had to keep her audios sharp and her optics sharper. She wasn't out of the danger zone yet.

A piercing and toneless shriek suddenly erupted from one of the nearby buildings and Kitta jumped up, that was what she had been waiting for; she would have five minutes to get out of the secured area before the cameras were back online. Five minutes was plenty of time though, she had run through simulations where she had been given far less and had still succeeded.

Gracefully Kitta dropped out of the shaft opening and skittered quickly across the hot, steaming tar that covered the roof. She easily gripped the nearly invisible handholds on the side of the building as she hurriedly made her way to the ground. She had three minutes now. Kitta jumped the last few feet, landing with a small clatter on the hard and heated concrete. Kitta almost flinched as the heat from the ground was magnified through her holo-shield, causing her systems to flash panicked warnings about over heating.

Kitta let out a low hum of annoyance as her optics darted around, searching for a weak point in the complex's security. Within seconds she had spotted one, about fifty yards away there was small section in the barbed wire fencing where they had clearly run out of the third layer of wiring. The spot was only about a foot wide but that was all she needed to make her escape.

In a flash she ran to the weak spot and wiggled her way through the tangled wire and out into the open and grassy field beyond. Suddenly the ground behind her was peppered with bullets and she could hear the anticipating whoops of the enemy pursing her; that's when she just ran.

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Warily Kitta inspected the strange and poorly defended part of the base she had discovered. In stead of having one centralized building like all of the other bases she had infiltrated, this one had many buildings that were much smaller and much easier to gain entry to. It even had breeches in the parameters so large that she was sure even a much larger agent could have fit in them.

The low wooden structure above her head creaked as someone stepped over her hiding hole and headed in to the oddly colored building. Instinctively Kitta drew herself even closer to the ground then she already was, the enemy was a foot.

As soon as Kitta heard the door lock click above her she began to slide herself out from under the low wooden structure that served as a platform into the pale green building. Briefly she had considered attempting to infiltrate those crude and previously unknown buildings but she had decided against it in the end; whatever they did in there it couldn't be very important, just look at the security.

As she moved across the green open space towards the poorly defended outer walls which had served as her entry point some hours earlier her scanner picked up something curious, something that she had never in all of her 'exercises' come across before.

Intrigued Kitta cautiously moved closer to the new machine. It's glossy, brightly colored surface gleamed in the bright sunlight of the late afternoon. Delicately she ran her small silver fingers against its smooth inviting surface. She felt strange, as if she was supposed to do something now, but she wasn't she what that something was. A curious tingling feeling was building up in scanners and with out warning an abrupt jolt caused her entire frame to spasm.

In a daze Kitta realized that schematics and data streams had began pouring into her processor effortlessly. It was like she had connected to the machine and it was downloading itself into her hard drive. All too soon the moment had passed and Kitta was left addled and confused staring at her thin metallic fingers. What had just happened; had the enemy known she was here? Was this all a trap?

Kitta's processors began to panic, she was already so late; she couldn't afford or withstand another flight from the enemy.

"Do you like my car too?" Kitta's fuel tanks seized at the sound of a soft voice behind her. She hadn't heard anyone, and her scanners certainly hadn't picked anything up, so the enemy _had_ set a trap!

Kitta spun around to face the enemy behind her. Her blue optics narrowed in anger at the small human, if it thought that it was going to capture her it was wrong; _dead_ wrong. In a flash Kitta had closed the distance between her and the small, talkative solider and with a flick of her wrist jammed a long narrow data port straight through its throat.

Kitta smiled proudly as the short solider fell to the ground twitching, gasping, and finally going still. It was a good clean termination, and it would help her make up for the points she'd lose for being so late to rendezvous. Carefully she wiped the data port clean on the unusual floral uniform of the dead solider, it wouldn't do leaving her main hacking port all mucked up with termination fluids. Seconds later she was over the fence, without a single thought to spare for the terminated solider; and headed towards the main road where she knew Sector Seven's van would still be waiting for her.

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The two agents shifted nervously in their seats as Banachek silently skimmed the files Kitta retrieved.

"So it was four hours late?" Banachek's voice seemed to echo loudly in the small conference room.

Simmons sheepishly glanced at his partner who refused to make eye contact before replying, "Yes sir, four hours, but she—"

Banachek irrupted him, "And I also see that it somehow made it's way into the living area of the base as well. Was it briefed about that area?"

This time it was Springer who spoke, "No sir, we thought it best that it be given no more information then absolutely necessary for the mission."

Banachek hummed noncommittally, "Were you also aware that that while in the civilian area it caused the death of the five year old daughter of the commanding general?"

Both agents flinch at Banachek's tone, they had heard of course that someone had died but they hadn't known who it was—or how old they had been. "Sir, we had heard but we didn't have the details yet." Simmons offered. "Maybe if we began a series of social studies programs with her then we can avoid future events like this."

Banachek looked sharply up from the files he studying, "I don't think you quite understand what I'm saying Agent Simmons. I'm not concerned about her lack of social understanding at all. She brought us the information—_all_ the information in more complete and undamaged detail then any other operative that we've ever used."

The two agents breathed sighs of relief at Banachek's statement. "But," both agents tensed again, "I _am_ concerned about what I've read in the engineers report. During the entirety of the mission it sustained very little actual damage to its body, but its vitals were dangerously low when it got back to base. The chief engineer concludes that this is the reason it took it so long to report back to us." Banachek paused to gauge the reactions of his agents before continuing on. "Gentlemen, I don't think I need to stress to you how important this alien is to our cause, it cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands; from now on it must be taken for regular maintenance checks. Understood?"

Both agents nodded stiffly as Banachek got up to leave the room. "Excuse me sir," Simmons called out as Banachek opened the door, "the reward—her—it's reward."

"Banachek frowned and turned back to face the agents, "Reward?"

Simmons nodded nervously, "Yes sir, the point system I implemented to hasten the training process—"

Banachek let out an impatient huff of air, "Yes Simmons, I read the brief about it, _and_ I also sanctioned it; so _what_ about 'the reward'?"

Simmons looked over the table at Springer who was glowering darkly at him, "Well sir the prize sh-it selected today I think it's inappropriate."

Banachek turned to look at Springer, "Do you also agree with this assessment Agent Springer?"

"No, sir, I do not," Springer replied, biting back the self satisfied chuckle rising in his throat. "I believe that if Project Kitta is properly supervised, and given the right incentives the insights gleaned from her experiments could prove invaluable to Sector Seven's resources."

Simmons mouth gaped open in rage, "You can't possibly believe that Springer, what do you think she's going to give us the cure for cancer?!"

Springer sneered openly at his partner, "_It_ must have had some reason behind choosing a chemistry set! It's probably a whole lot smarter than it's been letting on. I think it's only been jerking us around for the last seven years."

Simmons exploded, "If you actually think that Kitta chose a chemistry set because of those reasons then you're more insane then I've been giving you credit for all these years! She was probably just attracted to it because it was shiny, like any normal chi—."

Simmons froze the last word dying in his mouth, Springer's triumphant laughter burned like fire in his ears. Guiltily his eyes darted back to look at his superior whom he had forgotten was there. "Sir, I--" Banachek ignored him in favor of turning towards Springer. "

"Agent Springer, you're dismissed." Springer smirked widely at Simmons before hurrying out the door and into the hallway. He'd been waiting seven years for that ass to get it, and today was going to be the day!

With Springer out of the room Simmons tried to speak again but Banachek held up his hand for silence. "Agent Simmons," Simmons winched at the formal address, Banachek never addressed him like this when they were alone. "How's your father Simmons?"

Simmons blinked in surprise what ever was he had expected Banachek to say, _that_ was definitely not it. "He's…" Simmons hesitated, "he's dead sir."

Banachek nodded calmly as if he had just been informed it was raining outside, "Ah, I seem to remember hearing something about that. I'm sorry for bringing it up."

Simmons mouth tightened, "There's no need to be sorry Sir, he was old, and it was his time." Simmons paused, "you wanted to talk to me though Sir…"

Banachek let out a laugh, "You always were the impatient one Simmons; even your mother had to admit that. I remember when I first started here, as an agent under your father's direction, how you were once playing in his office and you broke a—well I don't remember what it was now, but I remember that you broke it. And instead of trying to hide it like most little kids would have, you barged right into the meeting put all the pieces onto the table and demanded he punish you right then and there. Impatient."

Simmons stood still, unsure of how to respond to Banachek's narrative for a moment until he finally spoke up, "It was an alien rock."

Banachek shook his head fondly, "Yes, I bet you'd remember what it was."

The camaraderie and friendliness between himself and Banachek all of a sudden became too much for Simmons and he blurted out, "About what I said Sir—."

"Simmons," Banachek's sharp voice caused Simmons to stop trying to explain. "Lets pretend that 'Kitta' is a normal child, what you feel for her would be normal; you'd almost be like her mentor, or even her father; But _it_ is not a 'normal' child, it is not even a child. It is an alien from an advanced race sent here for reasons that we don't understand. No matter how small and helpless it seems you must remember that it can, and does kill without a second thought." Banachek clasped Simmons shoulder tightly, "It's just a machine, a tool; don't let yourself get too attached ok?"

Simmons nodded mutely in ascent as he watched Banachek finally leave the room. The smaller room seemed to shrink around him as Banachek's words replaying dumbly in his head. '_It's a tool, it's just a machine._'

A tug on his pants startled him from his thoughts and Simmons looked down to see a pair of shining blue optics happily flickering below him. Eagerly the small mechnoid threw her arms up and clicked politely for him to pick her up. Simmons bent over almost as if he were in a dream and picked the silver alien up. When Kitta let out a low whistle of contentment as she snuggled deeper into his arms; Simmons felt a damn inside him burst. Without warning he clutched the sleepy alien to his chest, ignoring the way his voice shook as he whispered endearments to her. She could _never_ be just a machine or tool; she was his Kitta.


	4. Chapter 4

Two Weeks later

**Title:** Wanderer's Wandering Daughter

**Author:** Red Wasabi

**Disclaimer**: Can't we all just agree to go back and read all the other pervious disclaimers?

**Notes:** Well I'll tell you folks; this chapter was a bona fide bitch. I have written, and re-written this chapter over eight times! EIGHT! Before I was satisfied with what I had. Luckily I have lots of paper and I don't pay attention in school, otherwise you definitely wouldn't be getting another chapter out of me this soon. So there are still several scenes that I want to write involving Kitta and Simmons, so be ready! I also have a few other shorts waiting in the wings after I am finished up here, just a heads up!

**Rated:** PG

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Simmons glared bitterly at the approaching cloud of dust rising in the distance. He'd been dreading this moment from the time Banachek informed him of The President's decision to dismantle Sector Seven; he'd always known that it couldn't last forever but even so. Simmons glanced back in the inky darkness of Sector Seven, the bright afternoon sunlight made it nearly impossible to see anything past the mouth of the back entry way. He knew better then to believe that he was alone however; the faint scrap of metal feet scurrying in playful circles just out of eyesight told him that his shadow of almost over a decade was nearby.

_Everything_; that was what Banachek had told him. Everything that had once been theirs was now the property of the aliens that had caused so much trouble a few weeks back; all of their research, their discoveries, their—_projects._ Theyhad claim to nothing in Sector Seven now, not even a single blank disc or—Simmons eyes closed wearily as he listened to the faint hum of life in Kitta's frame.

"Kitta," Simmons called tiredly into the dark, "go to our room Kitta, and stay there until I come for you." A soft click was the only response to his direction, but it was all he needed to hear to know that she was already on her way towards her own special area.

For the first time since hearing the news about the aliens, and their 'supposed' rights to Sector Seven, Simmons allowed himself a sneer at the thought of the 'Autobots'. He had nearly thrown a fit when he had been told that he was not _only_ expected to act as a tour guide to the '_esteemed_' leader of the aliens, but that he had to do so unarmed. There was only one alien that he trusted, and the damn thing only came up to his knees! All those other aliens could go to hell for all he cared; go to hell and leave Kitta behind with him! Angrily Simmons turned around and stalked away from the open road and the bright sunlight; he had a _tour_ to plan.

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Optimus' optics diligently recorded in even the smallest and seemingly unimportant details of Sector Seven as he and ex-agent Simmons moved though out its long and winding tunnels. He had long since stopped listening to the brusquely speaking human, and instead had focused his processors on reviewing the files that he had downloaded from the mysterious sector's data stream.

Although the United States Government had given them their own base of operations about fifty miles away from this one, they had also been given the title to this particular base and everything that belonged to it. Secretary Keller had called it a 'good faith' arrangement, whatever that was supposed to mean. Optimus could see the positive side to having two bases though, maybe when more Autobots landed and they needed more space or if—Primus forbid, the Decepticons attacked their above ground base.

"Excuse me," Prime's train of thought was broken by an irate voice calling up to him. Optimus quickly re-focused his main processors on the stiffly standing human in front of him. Even though Simmons had been their half enemy when they had landed he was more or less on their side now, and for that reason alone Optimus had decided not to irritate the man; it was never good to alienate potential allies.

Prime cleared his vocalizer, a habit he had gradually picked up from Secretary Keller, "I'm sorry Agent Simmons," He began to apologize making sure to use the human honorific before the man's surname, "I became distracted, please continue."

For moment Simons said nothing in return, he only stared back up at the giant robot with a cloudy, unreadable look in his eyes. Finally he spoke, "I was telling you that in this last room," he paused and swallowing hard, "is the _real_ crown jewel of Sector Seven. It was the project I was in charge of for the last decade or so and—" Optimus leaned forward concerned, he had very little experience with humans and their emotions, that was more of Bumblebee, or Jazz's area, but even he could see that what Simmons was trying to tell him was distressing him greatly.

"Please take care of my project." Optimus' optics flashed brightly in understanding, so that was what was wrong. Optimus had been reading that humans were very territorial creatures, especially the males, to have to give something up that he had spent over a tenth of his life working on, the very idea was inconceivable to Optimus.

Optimus gently placed what he hoped would be interpreted as a reassuring finger on Simmons head and responded, "You have my word Simmons; we will not destroy your project."

He wanted to scream. To yell, rage—_thank_ the giant alien but instead Simmons only nodded silently, slipping out from underneath Prime's finger, and turned around to type in Kitta's pass code. It was time, but he didn't feel like it should be yet.

Simmons felt like he was in a dream as his fingers glided smoothly across the keypad; his hand knew the code by heart, he didn't have to pause to think about the log series of numbers or about their order. He just knew them, and for once in his life he bitterly wished he was the kind of person who couldn't remember a phone number let alone a security code.

Timed moved like molasses for Simmons as the doors began to slid open, he had no idea what was going to happen next. Would Kitta in recognizing her own kind rush to embrace her alien heritage and leave all of this and him behind? Would he discover that she really was only a drone, and of no importance to the Autobot cause?

The doors finally opened all the way, and revealed a comparably tiny robot within, who had been in the middle of playing with her brightly colored set of building blocks. '_Would she…would he_..._' _Simmons winced at the sound of Prime's startled gasp, followed by a shriek he had hoped he would never hear again.

The shriek broke the still moment and chaos descended upon the strangely decorated room. Prime's engine pumps faltered at the sound of the sparklings distress call; in pre-war days he had always been teased for his lack of firmness with the sparklings. His willingness to bend over backwards to accommodate them and their needs had been the aft of many jokes, but it had never stopped him then. And even though he had no idea where the sparkling was from, or how it had even survived intact through out the millennia long war he was ready and willing to run into that room and comfort or nourish it into stasis sleep. Unfortunately for him, trying to pick the sparkling up only made the matter worse.

Simmons shook his head, trying to hide the amused smile on his face, and he had been worried that Kitta would like the alien! Pursing his lips Simmons let out a low, long whistle, instantly Kitta's struggles against Prime's affections came to a halt and she scampered quickly over to the doorway where Simmons still stood.

Simmons couldn't help but feel smug as he bent down and picked an extremely eager Kitta up. The hurt look in the alien's eyes as he stared down at them was priceless; it was _almost_ worth having to give—something in Simmons chest ached as Kitta's warm frame trembled in fear over the red and blue alien's actions. No, he was wrong, _nothing_ would be worth _that_.

"Do I already have the files that pertain to her?" Optimus' unusually gruff voice startled Simmons, and made the little alien in his arms clench onto his arms even tighter.

"Yes, everything is already there." Simmons coolly replied thankful that his voice hadn't shook as he spoke.

Optimus nodded sharply, "Then I don't think I need to tell you that I'll be taking her back with me."

Simmons looked back down at his frightened charge and quietly replied, "I knew." He'd known, but knowing hadn't taken any of the edge away.

Optimus' optics narrowed unconsciously as he watched the agent interact with the sparkling; it bothered something deep inside his spark to see the sparkling react this way towards a human who had not too long ago been _their_ enemy, and at the same time absolutely reject the attentions of its own species. It just wasn't right, and as Optimus skimmed over the data files on the tiny miracle he became more and more convinced that it was somehow Sector Seven's fault that she wasn't responding properly. That's why in her delicate state it was imperative to get her back to _their_ base and have Ratchet run a full diagnostics on her. The uncomfortable feeling that he got when she refused to look at him, opting instead for Simmons, for a _human's_ affection had nothing to do with it; he was sure.

"By the way Simmons I have reviewed her file briefly, but I have found no designation for her yet; she does have one?" Optimus tried not to let his hurt feelings at the sparklings reluctance to get in cab show.

Simmons looked at the semi with genuine surprise, "Those files should have had her name all over them; it's Kitta."

"Kitta?" Simmons shifted uncomfortably at the sound of Prime's overly amused voice.

"Yes, we presumed Kitta was her name because that was all she said when we first found her." Simmons ventured to explain.

Optimus let out a low chuckle that he hoped didn't sound too mocking to the human, "Kitta, agent Simmons in Cybertronian is the equivalent to a human sparkling saying 'goo-goo gaa-gaa.' "

Simmons frowned at Optimus' revelation, "I didn't know. We just assumed…"

Optimus' engine revved loudly as he started to pull slowly away, "How could you've known?" He called back to Simmons, "You're not her race." And then he was off, leaving Simmons to choke on the only thing he left behind, the dust.

Simmons walked back inside to his office in a daze. With Kitta gone the lack of comforting and familiar noise of company seemed even louder. The sound of silence pressed heavier and harder on his eardrums until he thought that they might burst with the pressure. Simmons shoulders sagged numbly, as he stared out into the labyrinth of tunnels that _had_ made up Sector Seven. He'd forgotten what being alone was like.

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Two Weeks later

Simmons blearily opened his eyes and stiffly stretched on the small cot he'd been sleeping on for the past two weeks. He'd been stuck in the dark recesses of Sector Seven over seeing the transfer of everything to Optimus Prime's new base. The natural vastness of Sector Seven impressive caverns seemed magnified by the growing open spaces and dwindling human presence.

Wearily Simmons sat up, leaning heavily on his legs as a stretched his arms towards the cold concrete floor. If Sector Seven had ever felt mysterious, and secluded before that feeling was magnified now by ten.

With a heavy sigh Simmons eyes closed as he listened for the natural sounds of Sector Seven, sounds of familiarity, of normality, _of life_. He heard nothing except a small and almost indiscernible buzz. That however wasn't a sound he should have been hearing, it was a sound that should have been long gone by now. A sound he needed to be gone by now—to stay gone; because every time he heard it again it made giving up his life's work that much harder to bear, to face, to live with.

Simmons stood up and walked to his office door like a man walking to the gallows; his steps felt heavy and clumsy like his feet were made out of lead. Hesitantly he placed his hand on the door knob and smoothly opened his office up to the inky blackness of Sector Seven's shell.

For a few moments all he could do was stare down at the small alien _child _that he had lived with and in a strange way that he had never admitted out loud grown to care for over the year as she slept peacefully on the hard concrete outside his office door. She had come back to him—again—for the tenth time in two weeks since the other aliens, the ones who claimed she rightfully belonged with them had taken her.

He knew that what he should do was to shut his door again, turn off his light and pretend to asleep until Kitta's _rightful _guardians came around, which no doubt they would in an hour or so, to collect up there wayward charge. Simmons distractedly studied the delicate intricacies of Kitta's small frame; and for the second time in his life he petitioned silently to a God he'd thought he'd long forgotten that if he should live a hundred years and never see her again that he would at least remember this moment. That he would at least remember her unfailing loyalty; a loyalty she proved day after day by returning to him every time he sent her back.

Simmons turned around and walked back to his cot to retrieve the rough green Government Issue blanket that was strewn across it; his job with Sector Seven had required him to have a heart of more then merely stone, or steel, or iron, his heart had to be unbreakable, it had to be made of absence. For years he had labored under the idea that he had an absent heart, that he was indeed 'heartless', but with every small buzzing breath that Kitta let out as she slept he could feel something inside of him breaking a little more and it was agonizing.

Simmons gently bundled Kitta up in his coarse blanket and went to lay her soft on his cot. As he pulled away as a sleepy chirp rose up from the green blanket, Simmons smiled fondly as he watched Kitta's small hands burrow their way out the blankets and reach for him. He placed a reassuring hand on her head and instantly her half hearted struggling ceased, "Shh, go back to sleep Kitta, I'll be here when you wake up." Simmons whispered soothingly.

Slowly he stood back up and looked down at the again sleeping alien; he had phone calls to make, and betrayals to commit—again.

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"You want to go train?" Simmons asked bemused as Kitta tugged him towards one of the many now empty rooms in Sector Seven. Kitta let out an excited series of clicks reaffirming his assessment. Simmons looked down at his watch, they had already been up for two hours and not a single alien had shown their shiny unwanted faces up yet. Usually they came even before Kitta had had a chance to really wake up; Simmons figured that they did that specifically so that it would be easier to transport her.

Another sharp tug on his arm alerted him to the growing impatience of his wandering charge. "Alright!" Simmons shouted with a laugh throwing his free hand up in mock defeat. "We'll go train, but don't expect much with most the equipment gone!"

As they walked into the nearly empty training room Kitta let go of Simmons arm and ran over to the last set of uneven bars left. She eagerly scrambled up the pole of the highest bar and began to perform a set of acrobatics that Simmons was proud to say would have shammed even the world's greatest acrobat.

As she swung easily and fearlessly from bar to bar, flipping gratuitously in the air at will, Simmons was reminded of the first time she was taken to uneven bars; she had wailed so loudly, even when they had put her on the lowest set, that Banachek had considered the possibility of training her strictly for ground missions. That had been of course before Simmons had thought of implanting the trick for treat system he'd read about while doing his research.

Simmons winced as Kitta let out a triumphant but decidedly ear piercing screech in the cavernous room. She was balanced, and quite precariously in Simmons opinion, on the highest beam about to practice a set of maneuvers that she had been scheduled to learn weeks ago.

Simmons watched curiously as she leaned over about to start going through the motions. His eyes widened in surprised as at last second her balance seemed to waver and instead of a graceful finish to the other side of the beams Kitta fell with a hard crash onto the unprotected floor. With a quiet chuckle that didn't seem so quiet in the gutted room Simmons bent over and offered a hand to his fallen charge. A pair of intense blue eye glared up at him in defiance as Kitta brushed away his outstretched hand and shakily stood up, ready to climb the beams again. Simmons nodded proudly at Kitta's determination, at times like this she almost reminded him of him when he was a kid. Noiselessly he withdrew back to his vantage point, ignoring the small beep of his wristwatch as it tried to alert him to another hour passing by without Kitta's new guardian's appearing. He knew it was a vain hope, to think that maybe this time they would finally let her be; that they would just let her stay, _but_, he conceded to himself that is why they say 'hope springs eternal.'

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Optimus Prime wordlessly watched the unlikely pair as a busy Simmons patiently indulged the sparkling as she played around him. During Opitmus' long and sometimes brutal lifetime he had been faced with hard decisions; to hold out or withdraw, to be merciful or vengeful, to— Optimus' optics darkened with sorrow as the sparkling let out peals of laughter at the faces Simmons had paused in his paperwork to make at her. During the few times that the sparkling had actually tolerated any of his mechs in the same room with her they would have been lucky to get a sullen chick out of her let alone laughter.

Bumblebee didn't trust the ex-agent, he'd made that clear to Optimus; and Ironhide would be more willing to blow the pompous human up then to ever tolerate him. And Ratchet—Optimus didn't even want to remember Ratchet's hours long rant on 'useless, irresponsible humans who can't even be bothered to feed a sparkling the proper things'.

Optimus let out a long suffering sigh; he shouldn't even be thinking about what he was contemplating. It shouldn't have even crossed his neural net as a possibility, but…the sound of the sparkling giggling pleasantly with Simmons made up his mind. Sparklings were rare during the war; and with the loss of the Allspark their numbers were sure to dwindle even more.

If they had to accept this human in order for the sparkling's health and happiness to continue then they would; even if it meant dealing with the grating human on a regular basis.

Optimus rattled his vocalizer loudly as he stepped out from the shadows. A deep melancholy rose up in his chest plates when he saw that the sparkling instantly went on the defensive and ran behind Simmons. Although for the last two weeks they had tried everything they could to acclimate their precious charge to their company nothing they had done, or thought of had worked. The sparkling still refused to eat anything they offered, refused to recharge on their base, and refused to be handled in anyway.

They had been trying so hard, and yet, Optimus' optics connected with Simmons stony glare. He was afraid that in their attempts to raise the sparkling according to Cybertroain ways they had completely forgotten that it wasn't a Cybertronian at all, that it in fact had been raised by humans and was an earthling. And that thought was perhaps what scared them all more then anything; the thought that despite this being the first sparkling to be created in vorns, it had about as much in common with them as the humans that they shared this planet with did. They were the same species but theywere _alien_ to one another.

"You're later then usual." Simmons called out; Optimus was taken aback by the bitter quality of the ex-agents voice. "Can't say I was expecting _you_ though; you here to make sure I haven't been bribing the kid to run back to me all this time?"

Optimus took another step closer, much to the chagrin of Kitta who began to chirp furiously at him. "I," Optimus began to explain, his optics staying trained on the enraged youngling. "I wasn't here to accuse you Simmons, I'm here to offer you a deal." He finished solemnly.

Simmons snorted up at the giant alien, "And what if I don't want to accept this 'offer'?"

Optimus looked down at the mistrusting human and let out a deep sigh, "I was hoping for—Kitta's—sake that you would accept."

Simmons glanced sharply down at the small upset alien that clung to his shirt tails chittering madly; if it was for Kitta then…maybe he would listen. "For Kitta's sake I might," Simmons replied coolly determined not to allow his anxiety to surface in front of the gigantic alien.

Optimus allowed himself a small smile before quickly transforming into his alt. mode and swinging open the passenger door of his cab, "Reginald Simmons, I, Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots, officially request your expertise and skills to fill the vacant position as sparkling liaison."

Simmons stared blankly in shock at the semi for a minute before recovering his usual over confidence and hauling him and Kitta up boldly into the open cab, "Well Prime, you're in luck, I was just looking for a job with that title."

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AN: So, did you like it? Love it? Hate it's guts? Was jealous OP just the cutest thing or was he annoying?

Preview: Think Megatron's first unfreezing, Simmons living on base with the Autobots as Kitta's caretaker + the return of the pink Barbie car, and many, many more!


	5. Chapter 5

The knot in Simmons's stomach twisted painfully as three more plainly dressed Sector Seven specialists brush coldly past him and into the room beyond his seat in the hallway

**Title:** The Wanderer's Wandering Daughter

**Author:** Red Wasabi

**Disclaimer:** Not it!...I mean not mine!

**Notes**: So this chapter is one of those time jumping chapters that I warned you all in the beginning about. It is set after ch3, before ch4.

**Rated:** PG-13

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The knot in Simmons's stomach twisted painfully as three more plainly dressed Sector Seven specialists brush coldly past him and into the room beyond his seat in the hallway. Eight, that made eight engineering and robotics specialists, together in advanced mechanics workshop. And he had been sitting outside the room, counting specialists for the past five hours; waiting for a sign. He would take any news at this point; he just needed to know whether or not she would--

"Fluids we need more—!"

"The main electricity module is failing!"

"Shut down the neural—!"

Simmons closed his eyes and willed away the urgent and frighteningly panicked voice in the room beyond. He refused to react unless he had concrete proof; all he had heard were some eggheads yelling at each other. That could mean anything…they could be wrong—maybe, they were just over reacting.

Simmons felt his heart lurch keenly in his chest, wearily he placed his head in his hands, rubbing vigorously at the bridge of his nose to hide his prickling eyes. 'It'll be alright, it _will_ be alright; I just have to have some faith." He chanted unconsciously to himself. Even if things weren't going the way they should, he always had to have a little faith.

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"_Reggie, sit still!" The older woman tried to look stern as she reprimanded her small grandson, but Reggie knew better. Mother Simmons was all bark and no bite, at least where he was concerned. _

_Eagerly the small boy twisted around again to gaze intently up at the mesmerizing stained glass windows behind him. Staring at the intertwining colors and shadows that almost seemed to vibrate with life inside the old cathedral was one of his favorite pastimes when visiting Grandma Simmons. They had been visiting the cathedral almost everyday too, which in Reggie's mind partially made up for the fact that his dad had sent him to live indefinitely with his old mother. _

"_Reggie," Mother Simmons voice echoed loudly in the near empty cathedral, guilty Reggie turned back in his pew to face the empty alter. "Why do we have to be here?" He asked in a loud whisper._

"_Don't you want your mother to get better?" Reggie looked curiously over at his grandmother; was her question a test of some kind? His Father had already told him about cancers, and how they attack the body, and how medicine didn't help. His Father had wanted Him to understand that people don't 'get better' from cancer, and his mother certainly wouldn't be an exception. _

"_Daddy already told me about that Grandma; I know Mama is going to die because of the cancers." He replied matter of factly. _

_Mother Simmons mouth pursed angrily, "He would have—your father I mean. He's so like his father…" Mother Simmons voice trailed off sadly. She had tried so hard to balance out her husbands overbearing, over expecting personality by being loving and soft to her only son; but her effort came to late. The boy had shrugged off her affections, and embraces, and had grown cold and distant; just like __**his**__ father. _

_Mother Simmons looked back over to her only grandson, the boy was about to lose his mother, but he only spouted off silly science facts and figures at her. Suddenly as she took in his bright eyes, and bemused smile, she felt a wave of uncontrollable anguish wash over her, and if she had been anywhere else but the silent Cathedral she might have let it all out in a loud sobbing howl. But she was, and she didn't; instead her mouth tightened in a determined frown. She had failed to save her husband, and consequently her own son; but she __**would not**__ lose Reggie to their demons. He would not be like his Fathers' before him. _

_Overcome with remorse for the past Mother Simmons reached out and pulled the startled boy into her arms; clutching on to him like he was her last life line. At first Reggie remained rigid in her arms, but slowly he gave into the urge to be soothed by her rocking embrace. _

"_I know what your Father said Reggie," Reggie's ears perked at the mentioning of his enigmatic father. "But you must forget all that he has told you." Reggie's eyes widened at Mother Simmons command. If there was one thing that he knew it was to remember. And carefully too, whatever Daddy him because if he forgot…_

"_Why?" Mother Simmons nearly felt her heart break in two as Reggie's little face, pinched with worry over the thought of disobeying his father, looked trustingly up at her. It just wasn't fair that a face that should have been so innocent and a carefree was already having the life sucked out of it by the very person who should have been doing the most to protect that light. _

_Carefully Mother Simmons placed Reggie's small body on the kneeler next to her; she lightly folded his hand before finally replying, "Because sometimes men like your Father don't know everything, though they think they do, and we have to have a little faith in the impossible anyway." _

_Reggie's face scrunched up in thought, "But the cancers, they __**can't**__ be—." Mother Simmons placed a firm hand over her grandson's mouth, silencing his logical arguments. _

"_No Reggie, forget about cancers, and your father. Just pray with me, and have faith that __**everything will be ok**__."_

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Simmons didn't bother to look up as two more scientists hurried by him. He didn't have to look up to know that they made ten. Simmons closed his eyes again, and breathed deeply; haltingly his lips began to make the shape of words he thought he forgotten the day his grandmother had died. '_Hail Mary, full of grace…_"

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Kitta knew that something was off the minute she woke up and crawled blearily out of her nest. She bemusedly rubbed at her eyes before realizing what was wrong; the door to her room was still locked. Curious Kitta checked her inner chronometer, her eye flashed brightly in surprise as she registered the time, nine o'clock, and already two hours over her usual release time.

Although the naturally thick cave walls kept her room well insulated from any noise beyond the equally as impervious doors in front of her Kitta decided to try and listen for the telltale footfalls of either Simmons, or Springer coming to release her, albeit late.

Kitta leaned her head against the heavy doors straining to hear the usual buzz of activity outside. She could hear nothing, not even the whirl of the generators. Kitta jerked back from the door in surprise; the generators! She could not remember a single day in her entire life that had passed without the constant hum of the cryo-generators steadily pumping out electricity to freeze the cavern nearest her own.

Suddenly a terrible howl, unlike anything Kitta had ever heard before rang out in the hallway rattling her doors as if it were paper. Kitta skittered back in terror from the doors, and crawled on all fours back into her nest. She felt a guilty sense of relief rush trough her that Simmons had apparently forgotten to come unlock her doors and let her out. She would much rather stay in her room and be bored for the day then face whatever it was that was going on out there!

Shakily Kitta settled back under the green canopy that was propped up by a pair of chairs on either side. Yes, it was much better to be in here right now, but—Kitta cast a worried look at the doors across from her nest. With whatever was going on out there would Simmons still remember to come and help her rebuild her nest at night?

Kitta curled up on her oversized plush pillow with her back pressed up against the wall. She still didn't trust those doors fully yet, and figured it would be a better idea to keep an eye on them. Soon she let out a drowsy yawn; she really wasn't tired, she was sure of it, but something about her nest. It just made her feel safe, and warm, and happy.

Kitta fondly reached up a delicate hand to stroke the rough green sides of her nest. Rebuilding her nest alongside Simmons was a high point of every night for her, and though Springer never helped them he always stood by the door quick to offer her advice on what she needed to improve. Simmons didn't like it when he would do that though.

Kitta curled into a tighter ball, she understood more of their relationship then they realized. She knew that they didn't like each other and that fact often frustrated her to no end. They were the two most important people in her life, why couldn't they get along, if only just for her?

And besides Springer always snuck her those tasty blue globes that she loved so much. Every night, well after she had been put to bed, Springer would come barring a bag full of them, and every night she would eat until her systems felt like they wee going to crash. They always made her feel kind of sick by morning but she just couldn't say no to a treat that was being dangled in front of her mouth.

Kitta let out a forlorn click, as she tried to ignore the growing hunger pains in her fuel tank. She was lonely, bored, hungry, and she wanted her agents to come and unlock her doors now.

Abruptly the floor began to shake causing Kitta and all of the rewards she had collected in her room to bounce violently on the ground. Before she was able to squeal in fright, let alone run further form the trembling doors, the entrance wall to her room shattered open like it was made of glass.

Instantly Kitta was thrown up against the wall of her room, and landing back on the floor with a painful click. She almost didn't notice the body next to her, until it groaned lowly. Kitta let out a pitifully childish wail as she stared down at the man on the floor next to her.

Slowly as if in a deep fog, Springer rolled his eyes to look up at the shaking alien. He could feel the blood—his blood pulsing rapidly out of his body and the darkening edge of his line of vision warned him that his time was almost up. He took a deep, rattley breath as he stared up at Kitta's horror stricken face. "Hope this doesn't scare you for life, kid"

Kiita watched in shock as Springer body began to convulse widely and then suddenly became still. What had caused—In an instant Kitta's head jerked sharply to the gaping hole in her wall as the giant looming figure that had lived in the cavern next to hers, and that had haunted her nightmares stepped menacingly through the opening.

Kitta back up in abject horror as it strode towards her babbling harshly on in some language she couldn't place. She let out a desperate screech as it's humongous hand darted out and roughly grabbed her up.

Kitta felt her voice seize up as the monster brought her up to it's frightening face and began to harshly speak to her. Kitta stayed silent in shock, staring into the giant red eyes as if they would reveal this beast's desires to her.

The monster let out a roar of rage that nearly deafened Kitta's audios, and then suddenly he was squeezing her. She had never felt anything as painful as her life slowly being crushed out of her, one circuit board at a time. The wail that had so stubbornly stuck in her throat came out now, as she thrashed violently to no avail in the demon's grip. Out of the corner of her darkening optics Kitta saw Simmons flanked by several other agents, including the Old Man; rush into her room towards the behemoth that was killing her.

For the second time that day Kitta was forcefully thrown into the jagged cave walls of her room. This time though instead of getting up and attempting to run away from the monster, or to Simmons, she just laid there where she had landed in a painful mess of wires and sparks.

Simmons could only feel the rush of blood in his ears and the sound of his quickly beating heart as he dashed towards the crumpled form of Kitta. He didn't even notice that he had attracted the attention of MBE1 as her tiny frame began to jerk intensely as she tried to get up. Kitta's eyes flashed in fear at him as they both realized at the same time that her lower limb components, as well as most of her upper half were no longer responding to her commands.

"Stay there Kitta, don't move—" Simmons was shoved to the floor mid sentence.

"Come and get me you lousy excuse for a tin can opener!" Simmons eyes nearly popped out of his skull his father already bleeding from several open wounds thanks to the previous explosions, rushed towards the giant iceman shouting obesities while wildly shooting at him. That was a side of his old man that he had never seen before.

Simmons gasped as he saw MBE1's sweeping hand coming up behind from his father. "Dad!" Simmons called out hoping that man would turn and avoid the dangerous hand. However his warning seemed to have the opposite affect on Walter Simmons; Simmons flinched in the split second as his father's bitter and cold glare met with his own gaze. He had never managed to be the kind of man his father had wanted him to be.

The second was gone the moment a second even more violent explosion ripped through the room, sending Simmons flying into the wall next to Kitta, and MBE1 to floor. Instantly, like flies on a carcass, agents swarmed over MBE1 down frame spraying liquid nitrogen in every crack, crevice and opening that they could find.

Simmons limped painfully over to where Kitta's shattered frame lay; her blue eyes flickered desperately at him, like a candle dying in the wind. Simmons chocked down the bile that rose in his throat as he looked over her badly damaged frame. "Medic! We need a Medic!" He yelled loudly, hoping that the loud whine of the nitrogen capsules would cover up the sound of fear in his own voice.

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The first sensation she became aware of was numbness, then suddenly a blinding pain that pulsed steadily though her entire frame. Kitta let out a low groan and tried to roll over only to find herself strapped down to the bed she was laying in. The memories of the past day suddenly became more vivid in the inky darkness and Kitta couldn't stop herself from whimpering in fear. In a flash a dim light clicked on and she was greeted with the worried, but relived face of Simmons peering down at her.

"If I let you out of your restraints you have to promise not to move around too much," He whispered softly at her. Kitta buzzed slowly agreeing with his terms.

As soon as her restraints were gone Kitta extended a still trembling hand towards Simmons. At first all he could do was stare at the outstretched hand, Kitta had never offered, or asked for such basic affections, not from him, or anyone for that matter. He had long since figured that she, while in most respects was very human like, didn't crave affection or love the way a human would; but the real question was she trying to comfort herself, or him?

Hesitantly Simmons placed his hand in hers, mindful of the still tender wires, "I know today was a bad day Kitta," Simmons chuckled quietly at his own understatement. "You received a lot of damage and you won't be training for a while, but its ok, everything will be alright. If you just have a little faith in me Kitta, I promise everything will be alright."

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**AN**: I kinda…edited chapter three. I will say no more.


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